


So Give Me Hope In The Darkness, That I Will See The Light

by LA_Mannix



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 8x17, Episode Related, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Some angst, Some humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 02:57:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LA_Mannix/pseuds/LA_Mannix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel disappeared after the events of 8x17.</p><p>Weeks later, he is found. </p><p>Dean also finds the best apple pie he's ever had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Give Me Hope In The Darkness, That I Will See The Light

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of feelings during this episode. This fic was supposed to be something short but of course got away from me. Developed from an idea I wrote on tumblr.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, this is purely for entertainment, not for profit.
> 
> Unbeta'd so I apologise for any mistakes - please let me know.
> 
> Read and hopefully enjoy! :-) xx

***************

Castiel stood alone in a small field near a town in Pennsylvania where he'd gotten off the bus. Cas held a locket in his right hand. The bag holding the angel tablet rested by his feet. Cas looked up to the sky and through it with his angel eyes for the last time. He saw the stars and the planets and the galaxies and the angel dust of his fallen brethren. 

Cas took a deep breath, pushed his hand through his chest and pulled. 

It wasn't as painful as Cas thought, ripping out his grace to hide it. He supposed it had to do with intent. His was not a punishment but a _choice_. He chose a different family. Cas needed to protect them but he needed to protect the angel tablet. He mustn't be tracked. 

Castiel's arm began to shake as he reached deeper inside himself. He found the first thread and carefully touched the shining light. He looked over the field and the people _(beautiful creations)_ far away. He smiled then. 

Cas _pulled._

*******

The sun was starting to set. Cas opened his eyes. He was lying on his back in the grassy field, chest and head aching. He felt a thrum coming from his left hand and tilted his head to look.

It was his grace; a bright ball of glitter hovering just above his palm. Cas wriggled his fingers and watched in amusement as the grace twitched in imitation.

"Hello," he murmured, affectionately. The light pulsed. 

With more effort than he would have liked, Cas sat up. He raised his right hand, still grasping the locket. He held it over the shimmering ball and recited an incantation in a rough tone. As Cas spoke, his grace slowly shifted towards the locket in tendrils. 

Castiel spoke more forcefully now, his deep voice never faltering. He mustn't stop. His eyes blurred and the field around him spun. The tendrils of light completely surrounded the locket and, with one final flare, disappeared inside the object. Cas drew in gasping breaths and coughed. He put the precious necklace around his neck and placed it under his shirt, where it pulsed warmly. Cas stood up and swayed slightly. He rubbed at his eyes but the dizziness remained. Cas wondered how he'd forgotten this unpleasant sensation the last time he had fallen.

The feeling passed but the discomfort in his chest remained. Cas picked up his duffel bag containing the angel tablet and started to walk slowly towards the township in search of a diner, or a motel to stay in. Perhaps he could barter for a room. No doubt the cards in Jimmy Novak's wallet (still inexplicably there) in his coat pocket would be unhelpful. 

As he waited to cross the first street, a dark car passed by Cas. He felt suddenly mournful and his throat tightened up. Cas thought of the Winchesters _(Dean)_ and wondered at his emotions, no longer dulled by angel grace. Perhaps he should tell them he was okay. No. It was better this way. Perhaps in a little while.

*************

"I am telling you, Sammy, no way is this place haunted," Dean said. He drove down the main street of Stunt-Town-Number-3 and spotted a diner ahead. Beside him, Sam huffed a breath.

"We don't know that for sure, Dean. People hearing strange things, plants growing where they shouldn't, cold spots - "

"Warm spots - " Dean cut in. He stopped at a red light and glanced at his overgrown little brother.

"Okay, fine, there're some unusual spots happening," Sam said. He ran a hand through his hair. "I think we at least should check it out, talk to the locals."

Dean sighed. He was tired of waiting for something to happen. Kevin was working as fast as he could but so far had nothing on the second trial and Cas - 

Cas had disappeared _(they always leave)_ again.

He wasn't answering Dean's prayers. 

The light turned green. Dean nodded his head at Sam and said, "Okay. We'll take a look, Nancy Drew."

Dean swung into the diner's parking lot and parked his baby. 

"But pie first."

*************

Sam was making a face. It was quite an unattractive face and it was directed at his brother. 

Dean noticed it and said, "Wha?" 

Dean didn't know why Sam was making that face instead of eating his rabbit food and he didn't care. He turned back to his pie, taking another mouthful and moaning loudly in delight.

"Do you have to do that?" Sam whispered, furiously. "People are starting to stare."

Dean raised his eyes and stared at Sam, " _Let them watch_." He licked the corners of his mouth and grinned as Sam pulled out Bitchface Number 37: 'I am never dying for you again'. When Dean was younger he thought he would one day run out of bitchfaces to name and number. No such luck.

"This is the best freakin' apple pie I've ever had. Oh my god. I want its children." Dean took another bite and moaned again as his taste buds exploded.

"Jesus, Dean."

Dean rolled his eyes at Sam. As he was contemplating buying a slice of pie to eat back at the motel - one, to annoy his brother, and two, well, pie, a waitress came over to their table.

"Everything okay, darlin'?" She asked Sam. He nodded in thanks. The salt and pepper haired waitress turned to Dean and her face reddened slightly. "Um...and you, sugar? Is that pie okay?" 

Dean peered at her name badge and gave her a cheerful grin. "Well, Trudy, this is the best damn pie I've had in 48 states. I would love to take a slice to go if it ain't too troubling?"

"Give me a break," Sam muttered underneath his breath, only to flinch when Dean kicked him under the table. 

Trudy, looking flustered, replied, "Well that was the last of that batch but I think our cook is making one right now! I can go and check for you?"

Perfect. Dean grinned at Trudy, "The cook is making one right now?"

Trudy nodded.

"I'd love to meet him," Dean said. Sam looked at him, brow furrowing. 

"...Why?" Trudy asked. Her eyes flicked to the kitchen doors and back again.

Dean leaned back in his seat. Although she was old enough to have a few grand kids, Dean ran appreciative eyes over her figure before looking up. He knew what effect he was having on her. 

"I'd like to thank the man, Trudy."

Trudy muttered that she would check and left.

"What the hell was that about?" Sam said. 

Dean looked at his brother and honestly did not know. "I don't know, actually. It was just a feeling I had." 

Dean tilted his head suddenly. Sam looked at him in concern but Dean turned his head to the man walking out of the diner's kitchen in a white apron and flour speckled over the sleeves of his shirt. His hair was the same, his walk the same, and those damn eyes.

"Oh my god," Dean heard Sam say but he focused on the man whose steps faltered slightly when he noticed Dean. 

Dean didn't move, didn't speak, felt his heart jump in his chest when the man reached their table and said: 

"Hello, Dean."

"Hi, Cas."

*************

Dean balled his fists on the table. He looked at Cas standing above them. He saw those bright blue eyes staring right back and him and swallowed the lump in his throat.

"What the hell, man?" Dean exclaimed, "After the crypt and the tablet and... _everything_ , you just take off? Again?" Sam tried to reach over to Dean to quiet him but Dean shrugged him off.

Cas smoothed down his apron and averted his eyes. "I have...work. To get back to work. Um, for another hour and seventeen minutes. Will you wait for me?" 

Dean ran a hand over his face and said, "Six weeks, man."

Cas exhaled loudly, shoulders slumping, "I know. Please wait for me."

Dean was tired. He gave a tight nod, not trusting himself to speak. Across from him Sam said, "We'll wait for you, Cas. We'll be right here when you're done."

Cas nodded in thanks and made to turn away. He paused and then asked, "Do you still want that pie?"

Dean gave a small huff of amusement and shook his head, "Not hungry anymore." 

"Okay." Cas moved away. 

Sam raised his hands as if to say, what the hell? Dean couldn't answer. His eyes drifted to the doors of the kitchen that Cas had just disappeared through. 

***************

Sam was tapping his fingers on the table. Two fast, two slow, two fast, two slow. It was pounding inside Dean's head. He reached over and covered Sam's hand. 

"Sorry," Sam said, "Just nervous, I guess. What do you think Cas is gonna say? Where's he been?"

Dean shrugged, "I dunno. I do know that I wanna punch that little shit for running off again." I think.

Dean checked his watch again, shook it, then held it up to his ear to hear the tiny ticks. Yep, working. Just freakin' slowly. He held his arm out to Sam, "Is that minute hand going backwards, or what?"

Sam fixed Dean with a mixture of affection and frustration. He actually checked Dean's watch. 

"It's fine, Dean." 

Dean licked his lips and ignored the slow churn that had been building in his gut for the past hour. Sam raised his head and pointed. Dean followed his gaze and saw Cas walking towards them. Dean's heart thumped. Cas was wearing jeans and a plaid shirt _(no trenchcoat)_. He looked normal. He looked good. 

Sam and Dean stood up as Cas reached their table. He gave them a small smile.

"We can go now. I paid for your food already," he said. Without waiting for a response, he turned and headed out of the diner. Dean raised his eyes to the ceiling. The brothers hurried after the angel. 

Cas was leaning against the impala. When he saw Sam and Dean, he stood up straight.

"We can walk, it's not far from here."

"Listen, Cas," Sam began but Cas raised a hand and shook his head.

"Not yet," he said. Dean felt a surge of frustration at the angel's reticence.

The trio walked in silence until they came to a motel hardly a block away from the diner. Cas headed to door 6 and opened it. He motioned for Dean and Sam to enter and then followed. He shut the door. 

Sam's eyes widened as he ran his eyes over the motel room. Cas threw his room key on the small table in the corner that was near overflowing in loose papers and notebooks. Sheets of paper were tacked to the wall above it, covered in Cas' handwriting, lines of code. Sam moved closer to the wall but Cas called his name.

Dean didn't know he was going to do it until after he'd done it. He grabbed the angel by the shoulders. Cas flinched and stood stiffly. Dean drew in a deep breath and pulled Cas into a hug. There was a warmth coming from Cas' shirt. 

"You son of a bitch," Dean said, voice rough. He pushed Cas away sharply, Cas stumbling from the movement. Sam reached out a hand to steady him.

"It's been six weeks, Cas, what the hell happened?" Sam asked. He sat down on the edge of Cas' bed (now that's weird, thought Dean). 

Cas pulled two chairs over to face the bed and sat in one of them. Dean sat. Dean ran his eyes over Cas' slim form, at the messy hair, the perma-stubble, the delicate hands resting awkwardly in his lap, and his head hurt. 

"Cas..." Dean said. Cas stared at Dean, face sad. "Talk to us. You're working at a diner? What the hell?"

Eyes still staring into Dean, unblinking, Cas said simply: 

"I fell."

Sam responded but Dean could hardly hear him over the sudden roaring in his ears.

"Jesus, Cas," Dean exclaimed, "It's either all or nothing with you! You always do this shit."

Cas stood up suddenly and Dean shifted back. "I did not need your permission for this." 

Dean stood up to match ground with Cas, pissed, "You could've at least told us! Do you have a fucking mental override that makes sure you tell us nothing?"

Cas deflated. He broke eye contact and said quietly, "I did." 

Shit. 

Cas took several steps backwards and adjusted the sleeves of his shirt before saying, "I needed to protect the tablet and to protect myself. This was my choice. I didn't tell you because I have told you before that not everything is your responsibility."

"Do not even go there, Cas, that was completely different!" Dean threw up his hands.

"Oh, really? Please tell me," Cas said, flatly. 

"Um, I'm just gonna go get some coffee..." Sam said, inching towards the door. Dean waved him off, staring at the former angel in front of him. Dean narrowed his eyes at Cas.

"This is not just about you, Cas," he gritted his teeth, "This tablet is important, this mission to close the gates is important. We are so close and then you fly off with something that could actually give us a break for once and you rip out your grace so you're just a regular ole _human_ now. You should've stayed with us, Cas. It's important."

Dean flicked his hand at the wall and table covered in paper. "And you know that, or else you wouldn't be translating the tablet."

Cas looked at him then, really looked at him. Dean could see disappointment and another emotion in his eyes that he couldn't name.

"Am I not 'important'?" Cas asked, hurt. He stalked over the the table. "I am translating this because when I touched the tablet back in the crypt it showed me why I'm here. This is why I was brought back. To protect the word from angels...and from humans like you."

"Well, you're one of us now, aren't you?" Dean spat. "Just another mud monkey."

Cas growled and pushed at the table. It fell over to the floor with a crash, papers spreading out over the carpet. "I don't understand this argument, Dean. I had to hide, I needed time to recover and I needed to make my own choice after being held for so long."

Breathing heavily, Cas moved closer to Dean. Barely a foot separated them. Dean's body thrummed. Minutes passed without either man speaking.

"I'm not sorry for making this decision," Cas said, eyes shining. Cas stepped even closer now, and if Dean breathed deeply enough, he could smell the sweaty, earthy, human scent of him. "I am tired, Dean. Everything I've done has been wrong, but I have to believe this is right or I may just-" 

"What?" Dean already suspected the answer, but he had to ask. 

Cas just shook his head, lips pressed tight. Dean ran a hand over his jaw. As he opened his mouth to speak _(I still need you)_ , Sam came through the door carrying a tray of coffees and a paper bag. Dean sprang back from Cas. Sam stopped when he stood on a piece of paper and then looked around at the room and its occupants.

"Good, thanks Sammy," Dean said, walking over to his brother and taking a coffee cup. He shook his head minutely at Sam's questioning look. 

Cas righted the table but left the papers strewn on the floor. Dean watched carefully as Cas made his way to them, body tense. 

"Thank you, Sam," he said. 

"No problem," Sam said, slowly. He placed his coffee and the paper bag on the table. He motioned to it. "I bought a couple of burgers and some salad - Cas, I don't know what you like." 

"The salad will be fine," Cas said. He wrapped both hands around his coffee and Dean had to force his eyes away from those long fingers. 

Sam cleared his throat, "So..."

Cas flicked his eyes to the wall. "You're wondering about the translation."

Dean huffed. "Yeah, Sherlock, we are." Sam bitchfaced at him and added, "And everything else. It's been weeks, what happened?"

Cas sat down heavily on the edge of his bed. He took a sip of his coffee as Dean and Sam sat on the chairs opposite. He looked up, "Tell me: is Meg alright?"

Cas looked at Dean and then Sam, who shook his head. "Oh," he whispered, dropping his eyes to the floor. Dean's stomach flipped at seeing Cas slump lower on the bed. He went to lay a hand on Cas' shoulder but drew it back. 

Cas took a deep breath and exhaled. He lifted his head. "After I left you Dean, I got on a bus," he began. He sipped at his coffee. Dean leaned forward, having completely forgotten about his own coffee in his hand.

Cas licked his lips, "It was too dangerous to fly because Na - (his voice hitched at the name) because Naomi and the others were tracking me. I ended up here. I stood in a field and ripped out my grace."

Sam looked shocked at the blunt recount of events, though Dean wasn't surprised at the tone. Part of it was definitely Cas but he knew what it was like. Sam would too. Don't pick at the memories, hold it all in. Jesus.

Cas reached under his shirt and pulled out a gold necklace. Dean's eyes were immediately drawn to the pulsing, shining light at the centre. He heard Sam gasp.

"Is that...?" Sam asked. 

Cas nodded. "This is my grace. My energy. It's not safe to leave anywhere so I carry it with me."

Dean raised one hand slightly before letting it fall back, "So all the strange crap that's been going on in the town... that's all you?" 

"Yeah," Cas said. He tucked the necklace away. "It's what you might call, uh, residual energy. It is not of import."

"You fell and what, got a job at a diner?" Sam said in disbelief. Dean had to agree that it was a bit hinky, but what wasn't in their life?

"Not at first," Cas said. He focused his eyes somewhere over Dean's shoulder. "I was tired and hungry and I fell asleep on a bench in the park. The police apparently don't like it when a man in a trenchcoat falls asleep 35 feet from a playground."

Dean laughed.

"I searched for somewhere else to rest that night. I was walking down the big main road when I bumped into Trudy. She, ah, she wanted to 'fatten me up' so she took me to the diner. I cleaned the tables that afternoon in thanks and left. A few days later, Trudy found me in the park and offer me a job cleaning and doing some cooking. She owns the diner. 

"I've been translating the tablet during my hours off." Cas said.

Sam grabbed some of the papers from the ground and scanned them. He passed it to Dean, who did the same, although he didn't recognise any of the symbols.

"Is that Enochian?" Sam asked.

Cas tilted his head and Dean felt a rush of nostalgia at the movement. "Somewhat," Cas said. He gave a softly proud smile, "I devised a code of Enochian many years ago. I used to watch your William Shakespeare create many words in his plays and I suppose I felt inspired to do the same."

Dean could see the little nerd in Sam rise up, "Shakespeare? That was over 400 years ago! That's fascinating, Cas. Do you have codes for each letter or for certain words or..." He trailed off, lost in thought.

Cas said, "I suppose it has been that long."

Dean had to be sure. "Who else knows the code?" 

Cas held his gaze. "No one. They're all gone now."

There was a low heat pooling in Dean's belly at Cas' strong gaze. He licked his lips and watched as Cas followed the movement. Dean tried to tell himself that it so was not the time but he'd never been the poster boy of good decisions. Especially when it came to family and angels with such wide blue eyes. 

Sam coughed. Dean glanced over at him and rolled his eyes at Sam's discomfort. 

"What's it say?" Sam said, leaning forward. Cas leant back and Dean almost laughed aloud at this show of personal space. 

Cas hesitated. Dean clenched his jaw but Cas seemed to come to a decision within himself and answered, "It isn't fully translated. I've worked on possibly one-third. It speaks of angel sigils and rituals and makes mention of... closing the gates of heaven."

Sam whistled, "So that's true."

Cas nodded. 

"Are you gonna come with us?" Dean said, a lump in his throat. He shifted his eyes to the wall of notes so he couldn't see Cas' reaction. 

"It's a good idea, Cas," he heard Sam say, "You need back up." 

For a long moment, there was silence in the room. Dean could hear the cars outside and wondered just how small this town was. He wondered just how far his angel would run before he came back to them. 

"It's not safe for me to be with you."

"It's not safe for you to be alone."

There was a ringing in Dean's ears. He still didn't look at Cas or Sam.

"Where would we go?"

"I dunno, man. To see Kevin first, probably. Dean?" 

Dean hummed in agreement. The ringing grew louder. If he concentrated, he could almost make out the beats of a song. The other voices were distant.

Cas rested his hand on Dean's shoulder and suddenly the world snapped back into focus. Still a dull thrumming in his head. He looked at the others. "What?"

Cas looked thoughtful. "I'm not sure. Most likely nothing. At any rate, it's just conjecture." 

Dean blinked at him. Screw this. Goddamn angels talking in goddamn circles. "We need you man and you need us. So are you coming or what?"

"Yes."

The ringing stopped.

**************

Sam and Dean helped Cas pack up his notes and put them in the trunk of the car, now parked at the motel. Dean watched in disbelief, Sam in shock as Cas pulled out an object from the tiny bar fridge, declared it to be the angel tablet and then shoved it in his duffel bag. What is my life? Dean thought.

As Team Free Will drove away from the town, Cas sitting quietly in the back seat, Sam tapping away at his phone in the front, Dean felt a sudden urge.

"Hey Cas!" Dean said. His eyes went to the rear vision mirror to see Cas look up before turning back to the road. "I gotta ask: how the hell did you make that pie?"

Sam groaned beside him. 

"I don't understand the question," Cas said. 

"That was the best damn pie I have ever eaten. You've never cooked. Ever. How the fuck was it so good?"

There was a pause. "I read the recipe and I followed it. Is that not normal?" 

Dean felt a sudden wave of affection for the slightly confused angel in the backseat and his giant brother snorting in the front. 

"That's great, Cas. Just fine." Dean said, grinning. He flicked his eyes up to the mirror again. Cas gave him a small smile. _(All systems go)._

**Author's Note:**

> I think we can all agree that 6 weeks is much too long till the next Cas episode.
> 
> (Title from Mumford and Sons: Ghosts That We Knew)


End file.
